Let It Burn
by Liminalish
Summary: A certain witch has caught Scabior's attention in the Forest of Dean. When she gets a hold on him no-one ever had, he is torn between loyalty and the hope for something better. They're stuck on different sides of a window, yet connected through one bond, one scarf. But the shadows in the forest have eyes and ears... will their window be opened? some M ch1, lemons eventually.
1. Burn

Everything that is remotely recognisable from the Harry Potter books is not mine. I do not make money from this etc. I'm just playing in the lovely sandpit J. K. Rowling created.

one-shot turned multi-chapter, because someone left such a kind comment on one of my fics I started thinking about this one again, and it all went from there. :)

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 **Let it burn**

Never thought I'd be doing a job for the ministry. Well, I do s'ppose this ain't your ordinary ministry. The last few weeks me and my fellow snatchers have been on a 'hunting trip', if you will. We've gotten a list with pictures of mudbloods and the prices on their heads, an' it also includes any known tell-tale characteristics; scars, a limp, tattoos those kinds of things. That's definitely something we ain't had before.

We've been observing these three for some time now. They were 'iding in a variety of places, and now we're all in the Forest of Dean, at the border with Wales. We've been catchin' a few glimpses of them before they put up their wards. There were two blokes and one girl, she was the muggleborn, but we 'ave to take all three of them. Wonder who these three are to warrant this big of a bounty; could they be part of the Order? I bet they are, or they'd never get such a price on their heads, innit?

Our own camp is set up close to Parkend, a small town in the forest. There's water and supplies close by, but enough trees to stay well away from too curious muggles. 'Effin clueless they are these muggles, don't even know there's a bleedin' war on!

You can say what you want about 'em, but even though the two geezers are of better blood status, they'd be lost without the girl. She's a fiery genius, still 's a pity that we're going to have to snatch her and her little friends eventually.

We've gotten a good log of their weaker moments, and now we're just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Meself and a few others 'ave been on watch around the lake and the clearing and we got a report that the three had left early this morning. We can't be sure if they'll come back, but it's worth watching the place for a few hours to see if they do.

Those ministry folks had told us this trio would be a difficult case. We needed to be absolutely sure we could grab all in one go because they're very clever and if we lost them, we'd lose our biggest bounty yet.

We'd already gathered there was more magical folk somewhere in this part of the forest; there were traces of magical signatures. Which is why, during the weeks we were keeping them under observation, we'd also apprehended other mudbloods hiding in the area. It had been business as usual up until recently, when we finally discovered the exact location of the trio's camp.

One night we got our hands on Dirk Cresswell, just an average mudblood to us, but worth a decent sum for the ministry. On our way back to the camp to hand 'im over we walked past a clearing, suspiciously large for a forest as dense as this one. There was a shimmer of _something_ there. We had almost passed it when I sensed something, a muffled sound of leaves cracking and rustling, no more than a whisper, as if a spooked deer had moved suddenly somewhere far away. I 'alted and scoured the surroundings, but nothing showed.

Just when I was about to rejoin the guys, I smelt it: a flowery, sorta musky, fresh scent. I 'ad to admit smelt rather nice but it was too much unlike a forest clearing, too perfumed; someone has passed through here in the last few minutes, or could still be hiding nearby. I motioned for the others to be quiet and listened, trying to sniff it out.

I waited, but the sound was not repeated.

Just a few days after encountering the scent, I had just started the first round of night patrol, when I came past the same clearing. That's when I spotted the last dying embers of a campfire. I heard a rustle and to my left, about 25 metres away, I saw the girl. There was a large tree in my line of sight, and while I held my breath, I made sure to stay well behind it. I could not contain my intrigue and lent to the side to peek around.

She looked forlorn, a spirit wandering in her own world, a woolly tartan scarf the only thing tethering her to the earth. Here and there, she picked up sticks and twigs for what I presume would become a fire. She seemed so oblivious to everything around her, I could have snatched her right there. However, that would leave the two blokes unattended. We'd have to come back later for the snatching, so for now I decided just to watch her.

Merlin, she's quite ... beautiful-looking, I guess. Something about her just draws me to her, like a moth to a flame. I've seen she's clever and she's pretty feisty too. I do like a bit of fire in a woman, the look they get when they talk about something they love, but also when I rile her up just to see anger burning behind her pupils, or when she gives you a smouldering hot stare to say "I want you". Love that. It really does something to me, that fire in her eyes.

I wonder what _she_ would be like in bed. She's probably someone who's so saintly and studious during the day, but secretly likes it rough at night. Oh I could make her grab at the sheets while I lick her until she's shuddering. It would be amazing to find out how well we'd fit together, if you get where I'm goin'. I bet she'd look lovely when I take her from behind against a wall, me tugging at her hair, kissing along her spine, nippin' at her neck, biting her shoulder and rubbing her clit until she -

No! focus Scabior! You've got a job to do. They'll be back from wherever the hell they went this morning this any minute. Focus, focus. It's just another day at the office. Scan, plan, chase, snatch, deliver, collect rewards.

It won't be long now...

Any minute...

-CRACK!-

Apparition.

They're back, shit! Oh feckin 'ell! Those amateurs are not in position!

I panic for a brief moment, but before anyone can blink I have got myself under control again. "You guys, 6 of you there to the right, 3 of you down the hill, and 4 more close to those bushes on the left, RIGHT NOW! We'll drive them your way!"

The trio spots us as soon as they land and for a fleeting moment me and her make eye contact. A kudu vs. Lion before the chase, and then they run. We follow.

It's not long before we're hot on their heels. Tracking, the hunt, the fresh forest wind, the rush of adrenaline; this is what I live for. We sprint along a light slope, on top of which part of my band of snatchers is running along. Gradually running in a narrower path from all sides, we're closing the gap. Just a short distance and there will be the ambush party. We've nearly got 'em cornered.

The instant I can feel the first twinge of burning lungs, I can see the ambush party close the last gap. While rolling to a halt, I take three or four deep breaths. This is the closest I've been to them. Merlin, she's really quite something. No! Focus. Think of how much money they'll bring in. You don't feel guilty, you never do, act nonchalantly.

"Hello, beautiful."

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 **A/N: Your help through reviews would be very much appreciated - and read below.**

 **more explicit scenes in later chapters.**

 **later on there will also be scenes from Hermione's perspective**

Okay, I've written this in such a way that the snatchers don't get the names of the people they're going after, just pictures and prices. They only know the names of the people that have told them themselves. As Scabior wears a kudu-ring, a kudu is an antilope like animal with spiral horns. I liked the kudu/lion analogy, because in this scene, Hermione (the lion, the gryffindor) is being hunted instead of the other way around.

ps: Dirk Cresswell is the actual name of the muggle-born we see the snatchers dragging through the ministry's atrium


	2. Scorch

**Notes: So while this is marked as completed – and indeed it used to be – this just popped into my head and it follows the previous chapter so here it is.** **I do really like Ron, but there's some sort of minor Ron bashing in this chapter because the tone/dynamic just needed more anger to work. ****This chapter's a teeny** **bit rough** **and ready because I could not find a proof-reader.**

 **Please review, it's what keeps me writing, it's the only thing I ask in return for this story. I've got some ideas for a couple of extra chapters, possibly, if there is any interest.**

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 **Scorch**

The fear is for what is still to be lost.

You may see nothing still to be lost.

\- **Joan Didion –Blue Nights**

Merlin my lungs still burn! Okay, calm down Scabior.

A few strands of 'air are sticking to my forehead, and I've just lifted my hand to swipe them away when I see her looking at me.

For a split-second the world jars. I can't let the guys know.

There's no time to think, so I stamp forward without warning, grab her under her chin, and I hear yelling from behind; her two little bloke friends.

With my free hand I grab my wand, but I don't even look around as I aim halfheartedly and roar 'reducto.' I don't even break eye contact with her for a second. Judging by the screech and the chorus of "moron!" I guess I've only hit the trees. Wha'ever, wasn't meanin' to hit them anyways.

I let go of her, turn around and give every single one of them a piercing glare. The energy in the clearing dies slightly. Everyone is still panting a little from the chase, but trying not to let it show.

I turn back to the girl now, and she searches my face.

I feel as if she looks right through me. "What's your name!?" I bellow. No reply from her, only one of her little friends shouting that she should not say anything. I reach for the tip of her chin again.

A small whimper when we make contact; it stabs me. Could she have been hurt or is it nerves, fear? We didn't know exactly where they came from when they apparated, anything could be the matter wi' her

I pinch the skin on her chin a little tighter. Merlin, the sum next to their pictures was insane, do they have a connection to… him… the boy who-. But she's, she is so - If the guys knew I what I was going through my mind when looking at this young woman - probably the biggest bounty of our lives - they'd have me on.

I bend forward, my nose almost touching the bridge of hers, her breath mixing with mine. I linger, I inhale her scent, mixed with the forest, and I linger a little longer.

Her eyes seem to water but she is fuming too.

"C'mon pretty girl," I lilt in a lover's voice, "tell 's your name." My men laugh; I've still got it. She merely avoids my eyes and looks aside silently.

I release a slow, soft breath and turn my face away again, to her friends.

The two blokes look like they'd tear my limbs off without hestitation. "How about you boys?" I taunt. "You gonna tell 's 'er name? Now I think about it, I don't even know yours."

I swagger past the one with the swollen face and extend my hand to the redhead, "How terribly impolite of me not to introduce meself. My name's Scabior. 'S nice to meet you." Of course he doesn't shake it. He's being held back by two men. The redhead spits at my hand. Blobs and drops of his spittle landing all over the tips of my fingers left bare by my gloves.

I feel my face heat with anger. Before anyone else can react I have my hand tangled in his hair, I pull hard. "That wasn't very nice of you was it?" With the other hand I land a punch in his side. "WAS IT?" He groans. His body cowers but her puts on a brave face. Well, 'e tries to.

A twig cracks behind me and I hear her. "Let go of him!" I turn to look at this furious woman, still holding the redhead's hair.

" Let. Go. Of. Him. You disgusting arsehole of a human being, you vile excuse for a-"

She's giving Lochry a run for his money elbowing him an' all. He can just about hold on but I see he's burning to use force on her. He's got one arm strangling her waist and arms, the other is holding her forehead back now.

"Let go of him! Right now you sick-"

And I do let go, and inspect 'er. "Oh, I am so, so sorry miss… whats-'er-name," I saunter back over, "I didn't know you were in charge here." I pretend to take off a hat and bow deeply before her. 'er two blokes look on like a pack of wolves as I draw closer to her. My earlier frustration with redhead floated away into the sky above the forest, almost forgotten. I bet those two would rip my throat out if they could. I, However, am only paying attention to _her_ throat: a long patch of alabaster covered by a few thick strands of wild curly golden hair, contracting and expanding rapidly with each breath as I approach. The adrenaline rushes through both of us after her interruption. By the smudges on it I can tell she's been in these woods for a while before I spotted her when she was gathering wood.

Lochry is holding on tight, he's one of the more trustworthy ones – for a snatcher. He listens well.

I step forward once more towards her. Lochry holds her 'ead back further and her breasts press forward but I don't look.

Her chin tilts upward but she keeps eye contact with me in defiance. Brave girl. I can see she is angry but perhaps there is a slight shimmer of fascination in her eyes too. Does she feel it too?

I stop at a distance. "Now tell me dear, what's a beau'iful girl like yourself doin'ere?" It's a stupid question, I know, but I have to draw this out one way or another.

She trembles and pants; her breaths are quick and narrow. "Nothing." Her eyes spit a deep copper fire at me, and I see her hatred, her passion, her love for her friends. Her mouth is a thin line, not so much as a hint of a smile to be detected, only determination.

"Sure you can't be doin' nothin' love, otherwise we wouldn't 'ave been looking for you, now would we?" I wave the parchment with photographs and prices in her face. Merlin knows I would be looking for her anyway if it were not for this bleedin' war. "You're on our lists, now tell. Us. Your. Names!" She jumps.

Lochry chuckles behind her, her boys pull on the arms of whichever of my gang is holding them back. I hear the redhead struggle and yell, but I'm too focused on _her_ to mind what he's saying.

I lose control for a moment and grab a lock of her hair, she startles, only inhaling through her nose. Lochry tightens his hold on her arms in response. "Name. Status," I whisper.

"P- Penelope Clearwater. Halfblood."

The smell of her. It's something else. Mixed in with the musky forest air, she is a fresh breath. It's like a sturdy vintage boot plunging straight in me face.

For a moment I pause, holding the lock of her hair while I hover over her shoulder. The others behind me look on. She swallows and exhales slowly, a mere breeze that moves a stray hair off her lips. She shivers. And something travels up and down my spine.

We make eye contact in for a brief moment and then I know. I know she knows.

There's no way I'll hand these three over immediately. There is something going on here. And damned will I be if I do not get the chance to speak to her about it.

I blink slightly slower than usual and give her an almost imperceptible nod – Lochry has always been more brawn than brains, he doesn't notice.

"Hey beau'iful, I'm not very happy with what you just did there. I don't like being undermined. In fact," I grab her arm and Lochry lets her go, "I think, lovely, that we need to have a little eye-to-eye."

She stumbles as I pull her forward. To the side the ginger manages to get Lochry off his back and sprints towards us, with Fenrir in his wake.

My fingers grip the material of her coat tighter. Her pupils widen to the size of buttons. "What are you doing! Ron!" She struggles and screams. "Ron! H-"

~~~~.~~~~

As the snatcher roughly drags me away from the big oaf that was holding me I feel the familiar pull of an oncoming apparition in my lower stomach. My heart is beating out of my chest. I panic, Harry, Ron and me cannot be separated right now! The vice-like grip on my arm hurts and pinches so hard I'm afraid it might bruise. I yell at Ron and immediately realize my mistake. Not even a second later the world starts to turn and I feel sick to my core. Then everything goes blurry.

When my vision returns gradually, I am face down in fieldplants, but there are no trees near me. I think. I'm supported only by my knees and what strength is left in my arms after they'd been deprived of free movement for what felt like ages.

My throat is so dry that even de deepest heaving does not help me. With each empty heave I feel worse, and I'm vaguely aware of the tall grass tickling the side of my face. The weather does not seem too different from where we were a minute ago.

A hand grabs my shoulder, and another grabs my hair – less aggressively than I expect but still forcing me to lean back and sit up on my knees. I cannot stop coughing.

I hear a lilting chuckle next to my ear. "Don't worry lovely."

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Thanks for taking the time to read. There's a little hint of (consensual!) **hmmm-good stuff** in the next chapter.

Please read and review, it's _the_ thing a writer on here would like in return for their story. 3


	3. Smolder

**A/N: I'm still working on _autumnal days – aurora florealis_ , I just have slightly more inspiration for this one at the moment! ****Also, bit of a late heads up but I will be messing with the timeline and the canon, although I will also take it into account to a certain extent. With that I mean; there will be some recognizable situations, but in different orders or contexts you know them from.**

 **Again just playing in J.K. Rowling's lovely (magical!) sandpit, I don't own any recognizable characters or storylines etc.**

 **please read and review, it's the only thing a writer here asks for in exchange for their story! :D**

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 **Smolder**

O no, it is an ever-fixèd mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken

It is the star to every wand'ring bark

\- **William Shakespeare, Sonnet 116**

I hear a lilting chuckle next to my ear. "Calm down beau'iful, I just need to talk right now." And something sleek and silver seems to slither down my spine.

On my left I notice what looks like a hill, almost a wall like structure higher than myself, stretching out across the field into the far off distance. There it seems to continue into the forest. I assume it does the same behind me, though there is no way I can look with him holding me like this.

~~~~~.~~~~~~

When we apparated to that clearing we last saw them from our camp at Parkend this morning, I never thought this would happen.

She makes a good effort to elbow me in the stomach, but misses. "Let go of me! Get your hands off me!"

"Calm down, calm down!" I try, but it's not helping. She's still wretching her guts out between her shouts.

"Where are we!? Get me back to my friends!"

The winds seem to strengthen with her distress. My girl really is a force of nature. The grass sways wildly, our hair whips both of us in the face.

Because of her wriggling I take a step to correct my balance, and she is quick as a deer, pushes me away and makes a run for it. Fuck.

For a second my leather boots stand nailed to the mushy ground, and I just look on stunned as she sprints. "You don't even know where they are!" and I chase, zig-zagging after her.

"I don't care, I'll find them!"

She runs along for some distance and tries to cross the earth ridge but we're on the side that runs along a dry ditch; she can't get a hold on it.

I'm used to chasing people through grounds like these, and judging by the way she keeps stepping too close to tree roots instead of away from them, she isn't accustomed to running away through the woods. I fumble with my wand. This is hopeless, rolling to a halt I take aim with my wand. "Petrificus totalus!"

A cut-off shriek signals her shock and I see her drop to the ground with a dull thump in the tall grass.

When I reach her I spot her wild curls first, then I notice she is lying in her side. "You hurt?"

With a light push roll her over onto her stomach and carefully straddle her legs so she can't kick me once I lift the spell. "I did not want to have to do that. Stay still."

My wand hooks behind my glove for a second, and then I wave it from her shoulders and downward extracting the characteristic copper shimmer as the binding curse is lifted. Just to be sure I put her in the magic suspending cuffs. As soon as I stand she rolls over and manages to stand up.

If looks could kill… this woman would have gotten me there and then. Her look is even wilder than before.

"I can see you want to say something. Talk to me."

"Where are we?" she grunts, "bring me back."

"This is Offa's dyke," I tell her as I gesture towards the earthen ridge, "possibly constructed around the 8th century and-"

"I'm not here for a history lesson."

"Tsk tsk, you we're the one who asked where we were lovely. You're the bookish one, thought you might like to know."

She huffs at me.

"In any case, the rest is about 5 miles in that direction. They won't move until I tell them to, your friends are safe."

"SAFE?" she bellows, "safe!? You round up innocent people, and… and you have the audacity to tell me they're safe with _your_ guys!"

"If I'd been dead set on taking you in I'd have done it right away beau'iful. You know that's true."

Her expression changes, to one of despair. "Don't you see I have to go? I wouldn't expect you to understand, but I also can't figure out what you want. Take us in or let me go."

She stalks off along the dyke, her feet jamming in the mud with each step she makes. Her speed is laughably slow with her hands still in the cuffs; she keeps swerving through the uneven ditch because of her lack of balance.

I keep up with a light trot next to her. "You know I'll get back faster than you anyway, I could apparate. Now talk to me. Who are you really?

Exasperated, she leans against the grassy mound. "Penelope. Clearwater."

"No you're not. You might be pretty 'n smart but you can't lie, lovely."

A few moments silence.

She puts a mask of confidence back into place. "I- I don't even know _your_ name."

I chuckle. "I think I asked first, beau'iful."

I see a flash of nerves. "I think I have more to lose."

She wasn't lying. Beautiful, strong, hiding out in the woods during wartime, I only wonder why.

"I know you're not a half-blood or a pureblood, I could take you in just for that. But, there is just something about you girl," I slowly step forward, tapping my wand at her in mid air, "I can't quite put my finger or my wand on it." But she stays standing this time.

"…there is something about you." I tuck one stayed lock of hair back behind her ear with my wand. "I'm not planning on hurting you."

I look at her, nudge her magic with mine. "My name is Scabior, I was born in the East end of London. Father, a muggle, worked in paint a factory. Me mother was a half-blood." My voice lowers and softens, both with memory and the desire not to startle her. For the first time I can't look at her. "I used to have a little sister a long time ago. Left for Hogwarts when I was 11, got sorted into Slytherin."

I lay a hand on her shoulder, bore my eyes into hers, willing her to feel what I feel. "Can you imagine, a poor, not-pureblood in Slytherin? Father had an accident in May that year, when I came home that summer it was just me, me mother and me little sister. Now, what's your name?" I gently unlock the magic suppressing cuffs. "Pretty girl like you must have a name?"

And she does not flinch – neither does she speak. My hand wanders down her arm, until it's resting on her wrist. She still won't trust me, fair enough. She's a smart girl, she's probably got good reason to. When I've reached her hand with mine I give her my wand, close her fingers around it gently, and take a step back.

She looks at the wood with bewilderment.

I hold both my hands up and shrug. "I figured you might feel be'er with you holding that instead of me. If you won't tell me your name, at least tell me how long you've been out here."

"I'm just a mudblood, what do you care?"

"Don't say that."

In the distance I hear animals scuttle away.

"You round up my "kind" like some sort of prey. Who do you think you are to tell me not to say that? You're mental."

I cock my head. "What if I am?"

She just rolls her eyes at me. It's stupid to do but I kind of like riling her up.

"What do you want from me?" she asks, leaning further back into the wall.

Good question. What do I want from her?

I ponder for a minute, and she wiggles her foot with impatience. I suppress a smile. "I want to know you, but it's not working very well is it?"

"Oh bugger off."

"Sure, whatever floats boat and all that jazz. Good luck finding that specific clearing on your own, you said you were in a hurry right?"'

I can hear her hesitate.

Like a viper I strike. One hand is pressed into the earth mound behind her, and with the other I grab my wand back. My face lingers above hers for a moment and we stare. She smells like nature, but sweeter. I would swear her eyes, shimmering like an almost still lake, are looking straight through me. "Don't think I won't be seeing you 'cause I will, lovely."

I hear her release a breath, and I turn and calmly make my way back along the ridge, leaving her in the field.

"Hermione." She says, and I stop dead in my tracks. "My name is Hermione."

"Her-my-oh-nee." I let the syllables roll around my mouth. She was the one with the boy…? But then where does that leave him? None of the blokes had that scar… or did they? The guy in the clearing looked much fatter than Harry bloody Potter. Hmm, I'll figure that out when or if we get back there.

I stay in the present. "What a lovely name for a lovely woman." I saunter back over, close enough to feel the heat radiate around us. The wind whips up again. "Tell me Hermione, are you nervous? I can feel you're nervous." I nudge her magic with mine again.

"Yes."

Her confession seems to release a little bit of the tension.

"Is it me?"

"No...-" she cuts herself off and reconsiders, "a little."

"Is it fear?" My hand slowly reaches out to stroke her waist. "Or something else?"

"I don't know."

"When-" I swallow, "when we were still in that clearing, did you feel something too? Something you don't understand?" I cannot help my other hand gently making its way over her arm, to her shoulder, into her curls.

She closes her eyes and frowns a little bit, both confused and - calm? "I think so," she whispers.

I angle my head and lean in closer to in silent question. "Do you…?"

"Hm-hm."

Her balance sways a little bit as I pull her waist close the distance between us and lower my head to hers. The gentle perfume of pine trees and fire-y smoke still lingers in her hair, but beneath it is a fresh scent so completely her own that could light a thousand suns. The first tickle of her lips is so tender and fragile, kissing rose petals would not even come close.

She inhales through her nose, sharp and short, and for a moment I'm scared that I've overstepped boundaries or frightened her. Then I feel her arm embrace my back and she deepens the kiss.

Her tongue gently caresses my lips and I can't restrain a moan. It explores my mouth with a delicate confidence. My nose presses into her soft cheek and her hand snakes its way up my back and nestles in my hair – without breaking the kiss I guide us back to the mound behind and she pulls me lower. Closer. Into her as if she would suffocate without me. An almost inaudible drawn out delighted sigh escapes from her lips. She's indeed got fire. My skin prickles with her every touch.

I caress whatever parts of her I can reach, her shoulders, her sides, her hips, anywhere. I pin my knee between her legs to keep her there. Her tongue traces so deliciously around my lips. I'm completely lost in the moment when she shoves me away with a mighty push.

I stumble back a few steps and stare at her with astonishment, awkwardly wiping my fingerless glove past my chin, panting. I have no idea what to say.

Her eyes are full of unspoken emotion, but her lips are so beautifully tinged from the kiss. "I- I want you to bring me back to my friends Scabior." Her voice breaks. "Plea- please."

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 **It will get more spicy (tm) eventually, in later chapters. Please read and review, it's the only thing a writer here asks for in exchange for their story! :D**


	4. Ignite

**Hi everyone thank you so much for reading. Here's another chapter please leave a review, it's all I ask :) Sorry for any mistakes, I still don't have a beta. I'll try to fix some on mobile.**

 **I'll reply to some comments in the post chapter notes!**

 **"warning": swearing and name calling in this chapter.**

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Good night, good night!

Parting is such sweet

sorrow, that I shall say good-

night till it be morrow

 **\- Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet**

 **Ignite**

I have nothing else to say at now, I'm not even sure what I should feel. It's not the right time. The only thing I can think of right now is to take a deep breath.

When I notice the silence has stretched a little too long, I merely breathe out: "Go along with it."

She nods. Neither of us got a clue how this will play out, but she'll know what to do eventually. I hope. Whether it's trust or desperation remains foggy, but when I extend my hand she still takes it.

I swivel her around and lock her arms behind her back again. With my other hand I grab the hair at the back of her neck and pull. She winces slightly, and we're off.

Since that first moment in the clearing I've been wondering what I've done with me life, perhaps even before that. She looked so serene there, so determined.

I've usually been loyal to the person who pays my wages, my skills always had my back. I just have a sense for people's whereabouts, this is what keeps me alive.

It's hard to explain but it comes down to this; I can sense a magical signature. Everyone's got their own, and at times they're stronger than others, those times are different for everyone. Some get stronger when they're sad, some when they feel safe.

It's different with this little group though. I'm not quite sure how that works. So, yeah, I've been snatching my way through life. At first in a well-hidden corner of the ministry, which he-who-must-not-be-named was all too glad to take over. We always get the dirty jobs, the runaways, the ex-convicts, and since the takeover, the muggleborns and defectors.

I've been wondering when the last time was that I've done something for meself. Because I wanted it, not because it paid well. Sometimes I wonder if I'm even being dragged into his way of thinking, or not. Are my thoughts still my own?

The only thing I wanted since Hogwarts was to be able to provide for meself. When the new ministry gang offered me my own job at a lower wage, and higher risk I was tempted to say no, barhain for a higher price. But the alternative was- was not much better. Some of my fellows have disappeared since then. Some still do from time to time. We don't know how many bands of snatchers he keeps under his thumb but I'm fairly sure we are not the only ones. I know at least three other bands.

I apparate us to a little distance off the clearing, my face a stoic mask of nothing.

I'm lucky that I can sorta hide my true feelings when I want to. Adley… Adley always wore her heart on her sleeves. She'd been a bit... off for a few weeks. Then one night – a few months ago now – she disappeared into thin air.

When we walk back into the clearing I see that they've tied the two blokes together back to back, next to a tree, and they've surrounded them. In my band we've got an odd bunch. The money hungry ones, the trustworthy ones, the mad ones, the randy ones, the overly aggressive ones. Everyone's head whips up when we walk back. Redhead's got a black eye and a cut across his chin. Weirdly, dark haired one seems to be looking skinnier than when we left.

When she keeps struggling in my hands I pull her hair a bit harder and she yelps, I lean in and inhale the scent in her neck.

"Done with 'er?" Lochry smirks when we're closer.

"Done" I say, "completely done."

Fenrir slaps him on the shoulder. "I bet she was delicious. Wouldn't have minded a bit of that myself Scabior. You sure I can't 'ave a turn too?"

"'S not worth it" I mumble. I shove her to the side and instantly feel she did not see that coming. With a shriek she trips over the uneven forest floor and falls, unable to catch her balance as her hands are tied with the suppression cuffs. She lands with her stomach over an upturned tree root and groans.

Her face is smudged with dead leaves and mud, and her eyes scrunched tightly closed with pain. A second later, the look she throws her boys is one of hurt, and desperation. The sight of her bleary eyes sends an unrequested pang to my heart. Gone is the fire from the clearing, just watery sadness.

"So, what do we do then?" says Lochry, "she looks quite nice bent over like that." He laughs.

"Yeah," inquires Greyback, "if we can't have a little fun, are we just gonna hand them in or nah?"

I ignite internally but compose myself. Touching a gentle finger to my chin, I think. I would could take her in as mine, but she won't be separated from them without putting up a massive fight. "There's something off here," I offer, "I think we should wait a little. See if anything turns up."

I walk over to her. With the toe of my boot I flip her onto her back. "ello girlie, you 'right?" I smirk.

"Fuck you," she heaves through the pain, spitting locks of her hair out of her face. "Fuck all of you, you're sick!"

I pretend to chuckle. "Oh come now lovely, you were so welcoming earlier."

I grab my wand and bend down quickly, grabbing her by her shoulders. "Well, WHO ARE THEY?!" I yell as I shake her. 'Don't pretend we're daft!" That's probably going to be a bruise. A load of little twigs have tangled in her curls, she looks wild. She shies away from me, genuine doubt shining in her face, and wriggles uncomfortably.

"I can see you're not an ordinary group! You've been hiding here a while, and if you didn't have anything to be scared of, you wouldn't be out here!" In a single motion I whip my wand past her cuffs, undoing them. "You whore!" They all already thought I had taken her anyway.

I loosen my grip on her shoulders and let her drop to the ground, leaving her behind like a pile of dead leaves. It's better for her if she hates me. Whatever this thing down our spines was, it's probably not going to help us.

The dark haired fella is looking even more different now; angled chin, facial bruises gone, cheeks have lost their puff.

I raise a questioning brow. Fuck. Fenrir and the others see me look just a second too long and they've seen it.

Lochry ambles over to him and grabs his hair, mercilessly yanking a the roots, "Scabior you should see this, this is odd."

Fuck. That's the fucking scar. Something shatters in my mind, this girl- these three- oh Merlin be damned. I hope to everything that is worth something that they've not recognised the shape on his forehead.

"Scabior, look at this," Fenrir now says holding up a glowing red orb set in silver. "Look at it," he repeats with a mild excitement in his voice, "someone close by has used the taboo."

"But what about these three," Lochry whines.

Thank Merlin and Circe for this. "We'll come back for these if we need to," I press. I can see him hestitate, always eager.

I roll my eyes. "Just hurry the fuck up Lochry. They won't go far. They can't."

One by one they leave. The flashes of their individual apparations reflect on the trees as they apparate back to the camp in Parkend to map out where the notice came from.

In the final moment before I apparate, I see Hermione get up from where she was slung over the tree root, and run to her guys. What it would be like to be so fiercely protected as they are.

* * *

 **A/N: please consider leaving a review! :) Also what do you think of the quotes at the beginning of each chapter?**

Silver Orbed Lioness: Thank you so much! I worked really hard on that paragraph, had a ton of revisions, your comment means the world. Also amazing coincidence that you've been to Parkend, thats amazing. Thank you again, so many happy thoughts going your way!


	5. Spark

**Spark**

Doubt thou the stars are fire

Doubt that the sun doth move

Doubt truth to be a liar,

but never doubt I love

 **\- Shakespeare, Hamlet**

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.o.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

 _"What else could I use during a long trip?" I asked._

 _"Yeh've still got the age ter go to Hogwarts. Yer schoolyear is startin' in a couple o' weeks. Yer not gonna go camping righ' there an' then are ye?" said the shop assistant amusedly._

 _"No," I tried to play it neutrally, "it's for my parents," I finally admitted, "they're muggles. I want to surprise them."_

 _"Ah, that's alright then deary, no need to be secretive about that," she giggled. I think one of these bags might be quite nice. They're spelled so they keep food nice for longer. Where's the trip going ter dear? Is it a warm or a cold climate?"_

 _"Australia," I mumbled, and my heart sank a little further. I'm doing this for them. I'm doing this for them, I repeated in my head._

 _"I- " I hesitated for a while, the memory of my first day of primary school flooding back into my mind. My parents had bought me my first uniform shoes and a big-girl bag. Now I was shopping for a bag for them. "I think one of the non-spelled ones would be safer for them. Customs you know, and other muggles might notice," I said, but actually I just didn't want them to have anything spelled with them, for safety. The elderly shop assistant nodded understandingly and started wrapping the brown leather travel bag I had picked._

 _The little bell above the door rung as I left the shop with a heavy heart, and several boxes and of stuff from muggle shops and some magical shops. I gathered some things for the 'camping trip' Harry, Ron and me would eventually have to go on as well. My brain played me a cruel memory of when I was here some months ago, shopping and having lunch with Ginny and Luna._

 _I hopped into Madame Malkin's to buy some things for when the weather would unavoidably turn icy; scarves in various patterns, a few pairs of gloves, some extra thick socks, two sweaters for the Harry and Ron. We would still spell them to make them extra-warm, that wouldn't hurt._

 _I decided to take a little tour through the streets. Who knows if this might be one of the last times I'll be able to browse the Flourish and Blott's at leisure._

 _As I made my way absentmindedly through the bustling places, the familiar cobblestones pressing at my feet through my soles, I turned a corner to take a shortcut through one of the many alleys. It was rather quiet in here, but then again, it was Thursday morning, not exactly the busiest time of the week. I tried to take a turn to leave the alley when a solid bump and a whirl of color sent all my bags and parcels flying to the cobblestones._

 _A man, I think his early to mid twenties was lying sprawled on the floor, panting heavily._

 _I shook my head disapprovingly. "Oh for Merlin's sake be more careful!"_

 _He helped himself up, dusted of his plaid trousers, and looked back to where he had come running from. He winked at me and set off on a jog in the opposite direction. "Sorry beau'ful, gotta run!"_

 _He dove further back into the alley, medium length dark hair whipping in his wake, only just missing my boxes and bags scattered on the cobbles. He looked behind himself – at me_ _–_ _briefly. "Keep 'em busy for a sec please, darling." He turned back and brushed his hand through his hair, the motion drawing my attention to a red streak in his hair. He appraised the alley made an attempt to scale the walls, grabbing on to protruding bricks and windowsills._

 _Miraculously, he was doing a decent job at it and I just shook my head in both disbelief and amusement._

 _Just when he made his way onto a deserted flight of stairs I heard heavy steps behind me. Two burley guys looking less than savoury came jogging my way. "Oi lass, ye seen a guy about this tall, with dark hair run past?" one of them asked._

 _"Why ever should I?" I said, wondering why in the world I was going along with this mad ruse._

 _"He brought one of our friends up tae the ministry desk fer a fine," said the other one._

 _"I might have seen someone go that way," I pointed to the further end of the street, veering off the alley at an angle. "He wasn't as tall though, but he seemed to be in a hurry."_

 _They grumbled something indecipherable to each other and left in that direction._

 _I heard the thump of leather boots landing on stone, a few quick steps and saw a handsome shadow disappearing down the alley._

 _That was unusual to say the least. With deep sigh and a huff I gathered my things again. After several minutes, I had nearly everything back where belonged. But then I noticed an extra item; the man who'd run into me had probably forgotten his scarf. I'm pretty sure I had not bought one with a tartan. It was lovely and soft, the material caressed my fingers softly, but the owner was already long gone. I picked it up and stuffed it between the gloves I had purchased, thinking I could hand it in to the lost properties at the beginning of Diagon Alley later on._

 _I exited the little alley, nearing Flourish and Blotts. Decided it would be foolish to start buying many books at this point in time, I just browsed the racks. Afterwards,_ _I treated myself to some last little luxuries, a few chocolates, one small necklace that reminded me of one I used to own when I was little. Then I briefly stopped at Fortescue's to get some ice cream before going back._

 _On the way to the apparition point, the sun was setting already, and I felt more forlorn than ever. I already missed my mother and my father, and I haven't even done it yet. But I will have to do it soon, there's not much time left._

 _The shops were closing already, no time to hand in that scarf anymore._ _For a fleeting moment, I daydreamed about what I could have been doing had Voldemort never gotten his physical form back those years ago._

 _Once I went through the gates of the burrow I cocked my head and took a moment to fully absorb the skewed building and it's details, the little windowsills, the owls, the fields around it and the warm lights shining from the inside. My parents would have found it so lovely. I felt a little surge of loveliness despite my pain._

 _As soon as I walked through the door, greeted by the scent of warmth, cinnamon, and buttery flaky pastry, Molly enveloped me in a crushing hug, and I thought I might feel some tears unwillingly slip onto my cheeks. She held me at a distance, appraising me. "Oh dear, what's happened?" she worried. "Never mind, it might be safer if you do not tell me, right?"_

 _I dropped my bags and let myself be ushered in by Harry and Ron, who were already holding mugs of tea and a plate of 'pear lovelies' on a tray. I forced a smile. "It's alright Molly. It's all alright," I murmured, hardly remembering ever feeling less right in my life._

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.o.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

A/N: **Ooh flashback ;) Please read and review, even just an emoji really makes me happy :D**

 **I first debated shoving this chapter in at the beginning of the story, but I think the later reveal of this encounter might work better with the story arch I've got (half-) planned.**


	6. Flare

**Flare**

'Cause there's this tune I found

that makes me think of you somehow

When I play it on repeat

Until I fall asleep

 **Arctic Monkeys (Do I wanna know?)**

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.o.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

For the past hour or two I'd been shivering like mad; the weather was about to take a turn for the worse.

Before I started my watch today I'd been reading a bit, but I could not focus whatsoever, not sure if I can even remember which books I went through... _Filligrant's Fables and Myths_? _Hogarth's Healing Principles_?

There was no focus. I kept seeing shadows from the corner of my eyes, shining silhouettes on the canvas of the tent. After an hour of scanning pages hoping to find something to help us figure out Dumbledore's vague clues, I just decided to get outside and make myself more useful. I announced to Ron that it would be better for him to go to bed, and that I would take over for the rest of the night. My watch started an hour earlier than planned, maybe secretly in the hopes of seeing _him_ again, but the only thing keeping me company were the deserted hoots of owls.

A couple of hours passed, well, at least I think they did, because the light of the moon seemed to seep through the trees at a slightly different angle than before.

I twisted a bit because my legs were getting sore, but then something in the forest changed. The owls were now accompanied by a deeper sound, a growling howl of some sort, followed by heavy footsteps drawing closer.

Then a voice joined it, a distinctly human one, with a bell-like clarity which was obscured by the increasing wind. I could only make out a few words, "...Jack it's gone now... other direction," but it was clearly a young woman.

A man answered – probably "Jack" – his voice rougher and equally obscured by the wind, clearly worried about her. "... Snatchers not here... wand of yours...Christine... know I can't... let's set up here..."

We had to leave. Whoever these people were, wherever their loyalties lay or laid before they came, I- we should not be taking unneeded risks. Though I was sure my wards were proofed and protective, I could not help but tiptoe to the opening of the tent as if I was walking on thin ice, doing a mental inventarisation. At least two people. One animal in another direction. North-East direction and approaching.

When I reached the flap a soft snoring sound greeted me, but there was so little time. "Ron, Harry," I whispered, "Ron," I hissed when neither of them moved, "Harry! We need to go and set up camp elsewhere in the forest, NOW. There are people approaching, we need to leave."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.o.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

I feel the wind in my hair up to the points of my red streak. The tall grass would tickle my knees if I stood still, but of course I don't. I live for the chase, the adrenaline, the wind in my hair, the running, the pull on my lungs, the affirmations that I've still got it. Something inside of me just tells me to run, to hunt, to snatch.

It's so deep in autumn now, the last leaves are letting go of their grip on the branches, or it might already be winter. The weather is stormy, feral, the sky a deep charcoal grey.

She runs a short distance ahead of me, a mottled tartan scarf flapping behind her in the wind, between locks of her honey curls. It's like a little victory flag fluttering with a child-like enthusiasm.

My knees feel slurred, like I'm wading through mud, but when I look down, there is nothing in that could cause it - just the tall grass and the tree roots she almost tripped over in the field when I last saw her.

Fierce blue thunder clashes into the ground in the distance, a remote signal of a storm on its way. Sometimes I wish I had been luckier, maybe we would have ended up working in the same company, may be we'd both end up running into each other in Florean Fortescue's one day. And maybe she'd drink a hot chocolate, warming both her hands on the cup while her woolly scarf almost gets in the way of drinking it. Maybe some whipped cream would end up on the tip of her nose, and while I would try not to stare and focus on my own coffee, I couldn't help but chuckle a little at the sight of the young woman across the room. She'd look my way and blush, then avert her eyes. I think I'd just have the edge to say "don't worry, I didn't see that" and she'd laugh at me. I'd try to talk to her, maybe I'd flirt and wriggle a contact detail out. And we'd go from there.

No such luck though.

She stops and turns around, staring at me with marbled eyes wide-open as if she were a deer in the headlights.

"It's me," I say carefully. But it's like she cannot hear me. She continues to look around frightened, and tries to find a way out of an open field. There's the thunder again, a crack and a bang like a stretching whip strikes a tree across the field followed by a chorus of drums. The tree catches fire, and flares; a giant torch on the horizon.

Startled, she makes a run for it and then there's a sudden whip of green light from the forest.

She does not even get a chance to scream when it strikes her in the middle of the chest and my girl drops down with a dry thud. She lies completely motionless between tufts of grass, not even a twitch in a finger. Around her, the grass seems to turn increasingly darker, seeping up blackness. The wind blows fiercely but the grass around her is still, dead. I run over my feet still dragging through invisible mud.

I drop to my knees next to her, grab her shoulders and try to ignore rag-doll limpness of her body. The vibrant curls wither further with each passing second, turning grey and dissolving into dust. Her eyes open, but instead of the endless sparkling galaxies there are just dull black orbs staring into nothingness.

From the very core of my chest I scream, a white hot, unseeing scream of agony. My eyes clamp shut. I scream until my throat gives out and nothing makes sense anymore.

And when I open my stinging eyes again her dead-weight is gone. There is nothing filling the silence around me but me panting irregularly into the inner sheet of my tent on my field bed, and my heart beating without rhythm.

I roll onto my back and lay there for a second staring into the 'roof' of my tent, trying to get my breath back.

There's a rustle outside. Some leaves are crushed by footsteps. A dim light casts a circle on the canvas tent.

"Scabior?" asks a rough voice. "Scabior it's me, Lochry. You 'right mate?"

"Hmphg, sure," I sigh, "'m fine."

"Sure mate?"

"Yeah."

I know he's not buying it but I couldn't care less. This war's been taking a toll on us all. At times one of us wakes up in the middle of the night and doles around like a lost soul until the exhaustion becomes too much and we're forced to fall back asleep.

We rotate the nightly watch, and whoever is on watch duty hardly ever pays more than casual attention when someone leaves their tent and doesn't return for an hour or two - or three. We've all done it, and we'll all continue to do it until this flippin' war is over.

I dress meself and stretch. I need to see that clearing, I need to know if she's still there.

 **A/N:** Sorry for the brevity but it felt like a natural moment for a pause. **Please review,** it makes all the difference in the world to me and makes me want to continue to put my free hours into working on this. I would really love to get some before I start editing the next one, to see what you all are liking or perhaps would like to change or happen. Otherwise it feels like dropping hours into an empty void hahaha but thank you for reading *heart*

also sorry if the layout looks odd, after I uploaded this I did some editing via the app ans that never goes completely right.


	7. Kindling

Okay, though the writing is tricky, this fic is a little labour of love. I just really enjoy writing for these two. I want to put so many things into this fic but some plot-bunnies just work better as stand-alone one shots, or a separate multi-chapter. I'm thinking about doing an M-rated two-part for these two as well... hmm so many options. Sorry, the update took a while. I've been working on an enormous project for my studies. But this chapter is extra long to make it up to you :) We're slowly creeping towards more M-content. I've got one chapter lined up for a little later where they hmm, you know...

Anyway I'm rambling, this fic has been getting a slightly more consistent number of viewers each week since my last two updates, thank you guys!

* * *

 **Kindling**

"Harry, Ron, you clear everything up asap, I'll let down the wards one by one and stay on the lookout so we can go. I need you outside in 3 minutes tops, preferably sooner."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.o.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Before I apparated I kept thinking that maybe, she does not even want to see me. I'm sure she appreciated that I let them go last time, but that don't mean anything, right? But that kiss though... This whole thing was probably a bad idea but in that dream, I just, I just need to know if she's okay.

With each step I can see my own breaths floating in the cold midnight air. When I recognise a big oak I know I'm close, I know she's close, but something feels different this time. There is chaos here, life, instead of the quiet dead of night.

I sense her magical signature beyond the wards, but it's restless. And then in a glimmer she appears, a vague shadow beyond the wards – I feel them decreasing, lowering.

Without a second thought I dash forward, but before my boot hits the ground I blue-red bolt hits me in the shoulder. My muscles are like tightly drawn elastics and my face is pressed into the musty leafy ground. I see her feet approach and from the corner of my eye I can make out her wand preparing to – hopefully – lift the spell once she sees it's me.

"Scabior you gave me a real fright there, dear Merlin!" she hisses annoyed.

Never thought I'd be glad to have someone angry at me. But I'm glad too see she's fine, at least for now.

"I'm dead serious, there are others here, I'm just about to clear up and leave."

"What," I mumble, my muscles still feeling wobbly as I get up. "I-"

Once I'm towering over her once more, I notice something tartan around her neck. "That's- That's my scarf you're wearing."

Her mouth opens to speak, but before sher starts he waterfall of words, I give her a crooked smile and motion to her to wait a moment. I raise both hands as if directing an orchestra, and cast a temporary repellent spell to buy us a couple of minutes. "Anyone close will feel the need to drag out what they are currently doing." I state the obvious. The winds howling lowers in pitch as everything around us is slowed, except for ourselves.

She looks impressed and glad, and in that moment I'm quite sure she will be my downfall. I would do anything to stun that subtle expression of hope and excitement back onto her face in the future.

I gesture at the soft wool. "How did you come by that?" I laugh quietly. "Anyway, it's just a bit unexpected, I lost that scarf a long long while ago in Diagon Alley when I was running from..." The last bit of my sentence died away as we both realise what happened. It suits her, a little bit of me on her.

"...that was you, of course that was you..." she breathes while one hand unknowingly strokes the soft material around her.

Secretly, I like to imagine her blushing at this moment, but it's too dark to know for sure. My head pounds with the energy the spell cost to cast.

In a pinch she starts untying the scarf from around her neck and lobs it up in the air. "Here, it's yours fair and square, please take it back." I catch it, and the same silver thread that slithered down my spine the first time makes its way up and down again.

Shaking my head I step closer, crunching the comforting woollen scarf in my hands, and gently place it back around 'er neck, crossing the loose ends in front of her breasts.

"Why, it's yours."

"No love, it's more use to you." I give the ends a tug and draw her closer to me "Even more," I whisper, "I think I owe you a favour."

I feel one hand of hers slipping under the leather of my coat, caressing my side. My only way of restraining is a tough bite on the inside of my lip. When I close my eyes in one unguarded moment of intimacy she closes the gap giving me a tender kiss on the lips.

I smile against her lips. "This is why I want you to keep it, because of this." Her smaller fist scrunches up under my leather coat, and I wish it would never let go. If I didn't know any better I would sworn a tear slipped down her cheek. But I pay it no attention and pour myself into her, biting her lip with a passion I hardly knew burned inside of me. My hand wanders up her body, coming to a halt just next to her breast, the pad of my thumb stroking the underside through her clothes, with the other I take an unrestrained grip on her thigh and drag her leg around my hip. The pad of my thumb strokes higher, her nipple pebbles under her shirt.

She is never close enough this wonderful girl, this wonderful muggleborn witch I share a glimmering connection with. I would want to know more about her, but with her leg hooked around my hip and her lips on mine, I would much rather know her from each and every side, in and out, first. I grind into her, wanting her to feel what she does to me, the heat that radiates from my swelling groin just with the closeness of her. If I were less of a gentleman I might have thrown her on the ground and taken her right there, treating her right with my mouth until she is grasping at the leaves on the ground. My body covering hers, shielding her against the cold, and my hips flexing as we are finally joined. Her slick warmth welcoming me as we breathe and groan to a climax together, finally together. Her silent scream as I touch her where I want to touch her right now.

I pour all these thoughts into my kiss, and by Merlin, I am glad my dream from earlier was just a nightmare. I release unexpected deep whimper as my energy is still feeding the spell. She groans and sways with me, "Scabior," my name tumbles from her lips onto mine in a careless whisper, "are you okay?"

"Yes," I breathe forcefully as I stare into the endless galaxies I was afraid I had lost. "I'm okay, I'm fine." I move to kiss her again, but around us the wind picks up speed again, the spell is weakening. In a desperate push I groan into the kiss.

Something in her eye shimmers in the moonlight, and the corner of her mouth relaxes slightly against mine. "It's okay Scabior, we can't, not now."

In a brief moment I hate myself for it, but the sadness in her eyes when we lose contact calms me; she did want to see me.

She wraps her arms around me and lays her head against my chest. "The boys are packing, there were people here, just a minute ago," she murmurs. "I heard them. Please be careful, you would do well to leave too. Go back to your camp."

I try to hide my disappointment and subdue the hardness in my plaid trousers. Merlin, this witch...

"You just do what you have to do, beau'iful. I owe you, remember." I lower my deterring spell before casting disillusionment on myself. "See you soon, dear. I'll try to keep them from you."

She turns away and with an impressive but quiet display of magic she lowers the last of her fortified walls. They disappear as if they were made of melting glass. I catch a quick glimpse of the two boys, the red head patting her shoulder the moment she throws one last furtive glance in my direction.

She grabs both of them under the arm, searches the trees once more and she's off. I feel a loss in my heart not unlike the one I just felt the moment that green beam struck her square in the chest and her mouth opened in a silent scream of surprise before she dropped dead.

It's almost dead silent now, apart from a rustle in the leaves.

But something in my chest boils over, the sheer anger at the unfairness of it all. Nothing holds me back from stomping through the forest, breaking every little damned twig in the way. I find that stupid tree from my brief stroll up to here and give it what for. Bombarda. Confringo. Diffindo. The whole damn lot. I smash and blast until there is nothing but a smouldering stump left in this empty mess.

Then, behind me, I hear familiar female voice, with a recognizable clarity say: "You know it's probably a bad idea to draw such attention to yourself in the middle of the night, Scabior."

I whip around, my surprised expression undoubtedly clearly readable on my face. "Adley! Christine, what are you doing here, you, you, you-" There is barely a word suitable for what I would want to call her.

She keeps her wand aimed. "Sssh, I know, I should not have left you all in the lurch. I didn't expect any sympathy; I just know I had to. But you're fine I see, hair tied back with half of it wild around your face looks good on you."

Adley; how could she just talk to me about my hair as if nothing ever happened, as if she didn't leave us in the middle of a snatch, never to return.

A man emerged from the arboreal shadows behind her. He wraps his arm around Christine's waist and puts a lock of her white blond hair behind her ear.

My arms sag when I consciously make an effort to release some tension. No immediate danger. "What happened Chris, what the fuck happened that you just left us all? You were our most skilled ward breaker Christine, how could you?! Do you know Fairgrass got permanently scarred that time?"

"Scabior, I'm truly sorry for the way it happened. But I fell in love. With a muggleborn."

I'm dumbstruck, for months I had believed that wearing her heart on her sleeve had gotten her kidnapped. When none of the snatchers had heard from or about her for months, we figured that the worst had happened.

"Me and Jack," she nudged her chin to the man behind her, "we've been hiding out here ever since. It's difficult, but we manage. It was wrong what we did as a group. And I couldn't very well continue doing that while..." she smiled at Jack with eyes that would pierce through my heart if only that look came from the right person. Christine was agile, small, but her words were always big. "...while I knew people like Jack are not so very different from us as our bosses would make us believe." I feel a strange mix of jealousy and feeling like an intruder when Jack leans down and places a soft peck on her forehead, lingering for just a second. Then it's followed by a burning sense of loss.

Her piercingly light eyes returned to me. "The girl has been in these parts for a week or 2 now, often when she came outside the wards on her own to check the perimeters she mused out loud, whispering like a voice on the wind. Occasionally we would catch her words, occasionally she would mention you."

I press a hand to my forehead. "Christine, I'm glad to see you're fine, believe me, but that is honestly none of your-"

"Second chances are rare Scabior, and I took mine with both hands. Don't break her heart."

"She could do so much better than a broken snatcher." I avert my eyes, not quite willing to face the truth head on. "She's got the ginger doesn't she?"

"I can't say they haven't, well, had their moments against a tree. When the one with the glasses wasn't looking of course. But it isn't him she mentions when she's alone. It's you."

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.o.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

* * *

Please let me know what you think!

added note; Christine Adley and Jack kind of serve as literary foils to our main pair, just thought I'd throw that in.


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